


Wine & Spirits

by kittenwrath



Series: Gruff but Tender [5]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Awkward Flirting, F/M, Flirting, French Kissing, Kissing, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22270636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenwrath/pseuds/kittenwrath
Summary: Anonymous on Tumblr requested:could i request some super heavy flirting between rick and reader in the garage maybe more??? like that, we’re about to fuck but haven’t quite gotten there yet. both too unsure to be upfront about it type flirting!
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Original Female Character(s), Rick Sanchez/Reader
Series: Gruff but Tender [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603009
Kudos: 69





	Wine & Spirits

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: This story was originally contained in a large Rick fic archive post called "Gruff but Tender". That large archive post has been deleted and all the stories have been re-posted separately. Thanks!

I first met Rick Sanchez at the grand opening of a new liquor store on the edge of town. After perusing the aisles for a decent bottle of red wine to take to a birthday party, I bore witness to his ire with the store’s owner as I tried to exit.

“Wha – what do ya mean, he can’t come in?!” Rick shouted while gesturing wildly toward his teenage grandson. 

“Sir, no person under the age of 18 is permitted to enter the store. It’s state law,” the shop’s owner politely explained. 

“Oh, so – so you just _assume_ that he’s under 18?”

“Sir –” the shop owner began again with a sigh while rolling her eyes, “– it’s pretty obvious he’s not. I mean, he can’t be older than 12.”

“Um, actually I’m 14,” the boy – who I would later officially meet as Morty – whined while wringing his hands. 

The shop owner rolled her eyes again in response but firmly stood her ground. Meanwhile, I was directly behind her during the entire exchange, waiting for the three of them to clear a path. 

“Excuse me,” I finally piped up when I checked my phone and realized I was running late. All three focused their attention on me as I stood there with my wine safely tucked away in a brown paper bag. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” the shop owner apologized, stepping aside. 

“Yeah, no problem,” I replied, smoothly walking past her out the door only to be stopped in my tracks, once again, by Rick – who I then only knew as the odd man in the lab coat.

“W-w-what do _you_ think?” he asked me, blocking my path when I attempted to side step him. When I realized that he was actually attempting to pull me into his petty disagreement, I couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Look, I seriously don’t care about any of this. So, bye,” I said, finally passing him only to run directly into his grandson who stuttered an apology and colored a shade of red I’d never seen in nature. “Don’t sweat it, kid. Just make sure to bring your ID next time,” I joked and winked before hauling ass to my car.

———-

The following week, I ran in to him again at the same liquor store. This time, however, I was shopping for myself. He was standing in the vodka aisle with two gallon size jugs tucked under each arm as I passed through to locate the whiskey. He didn’t glance my way when I shuffled by but I couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that I needed to speak to him. 

“No teenage tag along today?” I asked as I came to stand beside him. I leaned forward slightly to feign interest in the label of the bottle directly in my field of vision. At first, he didn’t even acknowledge my existence – only reached for another comically large jug before turning in my direction, presumably to head to the register. When he nearly bumped into me, it was then he must have realized that I was talking to _him_.

“Uh – what?” he asked with an adorably dumbfounded look on his face before making a quick recovery. “Nah. His – uh – his fake ID got stolen by a hooker. New one’s in the mail.”

“Humm. Maybe next week,” I mused, plucking a bottle of Grey Goose from the shelf before strolling away.

The week after that, he was standing in front of the store with his arms crossed and, when I approached, he made a show of checking his watch before shaking his head. 

“You – y-y-you’re late.”

“Or maybe you’re early,” I countered while pulling the door open and motioning for him to step inside. 

And so it went for several weeks. I knew what was happening. I knew I was going to that liquor store specifically to see him and I was pretty sure he was doing the same. During our little weekly encounters, he’d share bits and pieces of his life – most of it sounding like a complete bullshit fairy tale. However, I couldn’t deny belief any longer the day he asked me if I wanted to take a ride in his spaceship – _his fucking spaceship! –_ and then pulled me through a swirling green hole that he shot into thin air, from something he called a ‘portal gun’, directly into my living room. 

“What the fuck?!” I had exclaimed when I recognized my surroundings. “How do you know where I live?!”

“Trust me, sweetheart. You – uh – you don’t wanna know how many answers that question has,” he teased with a smirk before shooting another portal at my front door and stepping through.

I only balked as the green swirl popped closed, amazed that all of his crackpot stories were true and that I had somehow developed a crush on a legit mad scientist.

———-

“Hey. You wanna come – wanna see my subterranean lair?” he asked one Saturday afternoon as we stood in the beer cooler.

“Is that where you keep your clones?”

“Yep,” he replied, picking up a 36 can case of Natural Light.

“Sure. I could go for a good gang bang with, like, ten younger versions of you.” I shot him a sidelong glance before reaching for a craft berry blend. “How on earth do you drink that piss water?” I asked, suddenly changing the subject as I was apt to do once I’d pushed the flirting envelope another inch further. 

“You’re pretty confident of – of yourself, huh?” he quipped with a raised brow. “And, I-I-I’m trying to get drunk, not tickle my taste buds.”

“You check out my ass enough for me to be pretty secure in my assumption,” I said, turning to leave the cooler. He was directly on my heels as we approached the register where the shop owner greeted us with a smile. 

“My two best customers,” she said, tossing a book of coupons in my bag. “Don’t miss the big sale next week!” The bell hanging above the door jingled to signal our departure and, a moment later, Rick yanked me through a portal leading to his garage. 

I’d been in his garage a couple of times prior but the atmosphere seemed a bit different now. I couldn’t hear voices or movement from inside the house like I had on my previous impromptu visits and I suddenly felt my stomach drop to my toes at the prospect that we were alone.

“So, where’s the Sanchez clones? I’m ready to par-tay!” I pulled my 6 pack of craft beer from the bag and shook it playfully before plopping down on a nearby stool.

“I lied,” he said, dumping the Natty Lite into a gigantic cooler he had tucked away under his workstation. “I killed them all so it’s – ya just got me.” He cracked open one of the warm cans and chugged it, making me wince as I imagined how disgusting it must taste.

“Darn,” I replied with an exaggerated pout, spinning on the stool. Even _I_ had to admit that I was trying much too hard to be cute.

“Don’t – uh – don’t you worry, baby. I-I-I may be old but I gotta big dick and know how to eat a pussy,” he said, making a V with his fingers and wagging his tongue in the middle. 

“Oh my god,” I breathed, my face flushing as I spun the stool away from him to face the wall. This was the first time he’d successfully one-upped me and I heard him laugh victoriously as he grabbed my shoulders and spun me around to face him once more. “You win,” I conceded.

But, instead of poking fun – as I fully expected – he sat down on the other stool and pulled me toward him; my stool gliding effortlessly on four wheels across the concrete floor until our knees bumped together.

Something had changed. I couldn’t think of an adequate come back to continue this little game of cat and mouse we’d been playing for the last few months. Instead, I only stared at him – completely consumed with the urge to lean forward, close the distance between us and kiss him.

“ _Do it, do it, DO IT!”_ my mind chanted. But, I was frozen still as his large hands began to knead my shoulders and one side of his unibrow quirked in challenge. When I still didn’t move or speak, he finally broke the silence. 

“W-w-what would you do if I kissed you right now?” he asked, turning his stool slightly so that one of his knees slipped between mine, effectively bringing us closer. He thought he had me, but I’d finally come to my senses. 

Without warning, I darted one arm forward to capture him by the back of the neck and tugged his face toward mine. Opening my mouth slightly to encase his bottom lip on contact, I gently nipped and pulled as I just as quickly retreated. The look on his face was that of pure shock and I giggled triumphantly. He thought he had me. He was wrong. 

_Or was he?_

Before I knew it, he had snatched one of my wrists and pulled me back in. And, when our lips collided a second time, he threaded his fingers through my hair to palm the back of my head and pushed his greedy tongue into my gaping mouth. As expected, he tasted like the warm, cheap beer he’d chugged moments earlier but that was quickly overshadowed by the ridiculous skill his tongue displayed as it sought and danced with my own. Within minutes, I was breathless as I struggled in vain for dominance and completely gave in when I felt him tug me further and further until he’d dislodged me from my stool and had me securely perched on his lap.

When he finally let me pull back for a breath, I lowered my head to his shoulder with a strangled laugh. “You win again.”

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement, settling his large hands on my hips. “How long have you wanted – you been waitin’ for _that_?”

“You’re pretty confident of yourself, huh?” I asked, throwing his earlier jab back at him.

When the garage door engaged and began to slowly rise, I shoved myself from Rick’s lap so fast that the stool flew backward and caused him to crashed against the counter of his work station. 

“Ow, fuck!” he yelled as I scrambled to remain on my feet as the garage door continued its ascent and reveal Rick’s granddaughter landing his spaceship in the driveway. As she pulled into the garage and got out, I leaned nonchalantly against the counter and gave her a timid wave.

“Oh, hey,” Summer greeted with her signature bored expression. “Sorry I, like, interrupted your make out session.”

“How –” I started, shaking my head. There was no way she had seen us with how slow that garage door moved.

“God, adults think teenagers are so dumb,” she said, pulling her phone from her back pocket. “It’s, like, so obvious with the way you two flirt with each other. Gross.” With that, she tossed the keys to the ship toward Rick where they bounced off one of his knees to land on the concrete floor with a clatter. So – I obviously wasn’t the only one taken aback by Summer’s effortless observation.

“Nice catch, Grandpa,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Thanks for letting me borrow the ship.” And then she disappeared through the door leading to the kitchen.

“Well, I should probably go,” I hedged, grabbing my 6 pack from the counter. The moment had passed and I suddenly felt awkward, wondering if I’d somehow ruined our easy going friendship.

“Yeah. I need some time to – to uh – regrow the clones,” he said with a smirk, standing from the stool while rubbing the section of his back that had slammed against the counter. I instantly released a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding as the atmosphere became light and playful once again.

“Well, if what you said earlier is true; don’t bother.”

Rick raked a hand through his hair and pulled the portal gun from the inner pocket of his lab coat, preparing to send me back to the liquor store parking lot so I could retrieve my car.

“See ya next week, baby,” he said, pulling the trigger and repeating the lewd gesture with his fingers and tongue as I flipped him off and stepped through.

I already couldn’t wait.

_**The End.** _

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. Yes, I used my favorite line of Rick’s again. I’ll never get sick of it!


End file.
